If Only
by theAkuRokuFaNaTiC
Summary: Those sentimental softies at the shop said that Burt would someday miss getting woken up at four in the morning due to Kurt's nightmares. Someday, someone else would fill those shoes of comfort. If only Burt had known that the time would come sooner.


Those sentimental softies at the shop said that Burt would soon miss getting woken up at four in the morning with Kurt's silly little night terrors. Maybe _Elizabeth_ didn't mind, but she also didn't have to get up every morning at six just to open up a tire shop. So, yeah, Burt didn't exactly appreciate his son's sleeping routines. Or lack thereof.

_Age Four._

This was the first time. Kurt was very independent, horribly so, and he usually didn't require help from anyone, not even his mother (whom he preferred much more so than Burt). Yes, it was quite surprising when Burt felt something tug him out of the joys of sleep. When his dark eyes met his son's bright blue ones, illuminated even in the darkness, Burt honestly thought that something was horribly wrong in the house. Maybe a burglar, or a fire, or a dog barking outside (?). Instead, the young boy only sniffled once, keeping just quiet enough to keep his mother asleep.

"'Whazzit, Kiddo?" Burt slurred, trying to rub the sleep from his tired eyes. The boy in question shifted his eyes once, meeting his mother's sleeping figure. If there was one thing about Elizabeth, it was that she was the heaviest of sleepers. A tornado could come by, and she wouldn't stir. At all. Becoming a bit more awake due to irritation, Burt sat up. "Come on, kid, what is it?"

Perhaps it was the harsh tone that caused the tears to well up in Kurt's eyes, and maybe it was because Kurt was so scared that he hiccuped the slightest of sobs. Either way, Elizabeth shot up like a rocket. Right, she was a heavy sleeper _unless_ her child was in any harm whatsoever.

Apparently sadness was harm.

"Sweetie, what is it?" Elizabeth asked, getting up from bed as if it had only been two in the afternoon instead of - Burt checked the clock beside his bed quickly - four in the morning. She closed the distance between her and her son, kneeling down to his level. The kid really was pretty tiny, even for four. Then again, Burt reasoned, he took after the very petite Elizabeth. The woman who could step out in the summer heat for just three minutes and get burnt as if she had spent the entire day at the beach. They didn't go very often.

Kurt didn't answer for a moment, only wiping his eye where a stray tear had escaped. The woman next to him shot Burt a quick look. Like it was Burt's fault that Kurt had woken him up. 'Twas the logic of Elizabeth Hummel. Finally, the chestnut-haired boy took in a sharp breath and spoke. "I had a really bad dream, Mommy," he said in his softest voice.

Okay, that was kind of sad. Burt softened his gaze, kneeling down beside his wife. "Why didn't you just say so?" Kurt shrugged, using the simple mentality of a child. Giggling, Elizabeth ruffled Kurt's silky hair.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" Her answer was a shake of the head. "Well, I want you to remember something _very_ important, Kurt Hummel," she started, lowering her voice to sound secretive. "Only you, me, and your daddy can know." Kurt nodded eagerly, and Burt fought back a laugh at how Elizabeth could attract the attention of thousands of people with her voice. "Nightmares are just the things that we're the most afraid of. I have nightmares about spiders stealing you away. Your daddy has dreams of the Buckeyes losing the State Championship." Burt snorted, and Kurt giggled. "So what do you do?"

"Stop being afraid?" Kurt asked, looking much happier already. But the boy cocked his head when Elizabeth shook her head.

"No, you beat them. You know what I did to that mean spider in my dream?" Kurt shook his head. "I went right up to him and hit him. Which you are not allowed to do in real life. Only in dreams. No hitting people in real life. That's mean."

The three of them were sitting on the floor now, laughing at Elizabeth's wild hand gestures. She was explaining just how she got back her baby from the stealing spider, and Kurt was watching intently; Burt too was watching, laughing when she threw her hands up so highly that she nearly toppled over. It didn't matter that Elizabeth and Kurt finally drifted off around five-thirty, and Burt just tucked the two of them in bed and went to watch some television. Just to make sure the Buckeyes were still in.

_Age Eight._

It was kind of like Life had made a 'Let's Hate Burt Hummel' club, and Luck had joined. Because the two were kind of throwing everything back in Burt's face.

He knew that without Elizabeth, life might (would), never go back the same way it was. Instead, it was like this gaping hole left in his chest. Every night, Burt would find himself waiting on his and Elizabeth's bed, because she always took forever brushing her teeth and hair. Strangely, and Burt thought this with all the bitterness he could muster, she never came to bed. He always fell asleep alone, idly smelling the lingering scent of her perfume still on her abandoned pillow.

Kurt was probably worse. He just didn't show it. If anything, he was just a bit more of an introvert. Never did the chestnut-haired child cry for his mother or scream or throw a fit or any of the things that he should've been allowed to going through something like this. He just went through life with his shoulders slumped and his eyes down. They didn't seem to be as bright anymore, not quite like they used to be. His eyes were still blue, they'd always be, but he had lost all the little colors that went with the blue. He didn't smile or show off the light dusting of freckles on his nose. Kurt looked like he wanted to disappear.

He tried to take on all of Elizabeth's old tasks. It never quite worked, and every babysitter said the same thing. "He does everything I'm supposed to." Kurt tried to vacuum with a vacuum cleaner too big for his tiny body, he tried to to dust the cabinets that were too tall for him, he tried to cook foods that were much too complex for him, ending in a kitchen disaster.

Burt had come home to a messed up kitchen, to say the least, and Kurt was standing in the middle of it with a most comical expression. "That didn't work," the blue-eyed boy muttered quietly. And for the first time in what felt like forever, because it had to have been, Burt laughed. This was hysterical, even if Kurt didn't see the comedy in this. It had been a short laugh, but it was enough to make him feel even worse because Elizabeth couldn't see this.

What was worse was that Kurt had become even more of an independent soul. He told himself when to go to bed, he ran his own baths, he did everything he needed to. Honestly, Burt didn't think Kurt needed much of him anymore, save for paying for the house and meals (which, if Kurt knew how to work, he probably would). It was one of those nights where Burt just buried his nose in Elizabeth's sweet-smelling pillow, allowing the tears to just gather at the corners of his eyes but not let them fall. She would have hated that.

Burt was so lost in his own little world that he almost didn't notice the little hand tug at his shirt. Slowly turning himself, Burt stared again at blue eyes filled with too much maturity for an eight year-old. Shaking off the remains of drowsiness that didn't really exist (because Burt hadn't been able to feel much of anything lately, let alone sleep), the older man furrowed his brow. "What's the matter?" Kurt took a minute to worry his bottom lip, and Burt knew that Elizabeth might've scolded him for such a habit, even if Kurt _did_ inherit it from _her_. "Kurt, you've gotta talk to me." Anything, just to hear his kid talk again. Nowadays, Kurt only answered with monosyllabic words. The normally-boisterous kid refused to talk anymore. Elizabeth had really messed them both up.

"I had a bad dream," the child whispered. "About Mom."

"Oh. _Oh_. Come up here, buddy." Obeying, Kurt climbed on top of the bed beside Burt, snuggling into his father's side. "So, you, uh, wanna talk about it?" Both knew the answer, but it just took a simple shake of Kurt's head to know what it was about. Elizabeth was gone, dead, never coming back, and Kurt realized that. He shouldn't have to, Burt thought bitterly, he was only eight. No kid, especially not Kurt, should have to be without their mother at such a young age.

But then, a thought occurred to Burt. If Elizabeth knew how to calm down Kurt at his most hysterical moments, surely Burt could comfort his boy when Kurt was just a _little_ upset. If only Burt knew. If only, if only, if only. "Hey, you remember that little hint your - your mom used to give you for nightmares?" Kurt nodded wordlessly. "Just hit that bad dream." Or something. Burt didn't have that way with words that Elizabeth had, that way to throw your hands in the air and convey every single feeling that she had in her imaginative head.

"But I can't hit Mom."

And that was all it took to unravel Burt Hummel's little facade of being fine. The man shamelessly buried his head in his kid's shoulder and sobbed, letting Kurt rest his little head against Burt and silently shake with tears. And there the two would stay the entire night, crying out every little feeling that they had thought that Elizabeth had stolen. If only she had. No, Burt was not quite lucky enough. Because Luck hated him.

_Age Sixteen._

Things were getting bad. Burt was watching everything in Kurt's life fall apart. Part of it was Burt's fault, too. He had been warned to take better care of himself, by Kurt, but he didn't listen. Because an old man was smarter than some sixteen year-old. Not quite the case. And that wasn't just it. The bullying was getting bad. Really bad. Usually, that Schuester guy tried to keep out of most of the Glee Kids' personal lives, unless they wanted him to. Schuester got involved in Kurt's, and both men knew that Kurt wouldn't tell anyone even if his life depended on it.

If only Burt knew that it did.

What he didn't know was that Kurt went to bed every night and just stared at the ceiling, thinking of his mother, thinking of that Karofsky guy, thinking of what Heaven might be like, if there was one. Perhaps he could go there soon. Would anyone really miss Kurt Hummel, the gay kid in that stupid Glee Club. No, he was just the punching bag of the school. It was okay. Mercedes always had Tina, and Rachel kind of disliked him. Brittany and Santana would be upset, but they had each other. Quinn had Sam, Sam had Quinn. Artie had Tina and Mike, and Mike had Tina, and Tina had Mike and Artie. Puck wouldn't be that upset, and Finn was Finn.

And Burt?

Well, Burt had Finn and Carole.

Kurt touched his lips softly, where David Karofsky had kissed them. He had always been wanted to be kissed by someone, but not like that. Kurt imagined someone like that Blaine guy, sweet and dapper and strong but caring. He had those eyes like his mother. Soft ones that could easily become dangerous if enraged. Kurt wanted to go to sleep thinking about Blaine and his soft eyes, but all he could think about was Karofsky and his chapped lips.

That night, no little hands gripped Burt's shirt. No little voice, or bright blue eyes, or sniffles or choked sobs.

_Age Eighteen._

They had been doing this dance for a decade. Skirting in and out of each other's lives, and it was Burt's choice that he didn't show up to Friday Night Dinner for three weeks. Luckily, no one had died or had a heart attack, and Burt had that sinking feeling that Kurt and Blaine had went out for their own Friday Night Dinner.

This night, Blaine was staying the night. In Kurt's room, but they promised not to do anything. If they did, Burt reminded them, he would be in the room next door, and he would know. And Blaine would probably not be allowed over anymore.

Kurt was in the bathroom, brushing his teeth and fixing his hair, and Burt was hit with that weird sense of nostalgia. Kurt took forever in there, and the older man could see Blaine sitting on Kurt's bed, fidgeting with his white shirt and rolling his eyes as each minute passed. Finally, the bathroom door opened, and Burt hid behind a wall, out of sight from Kurt and Blaine (but they weren't out of his sight, not by a long shot). The shorter teen smirked as he grabbed Kurt's hand and led him to the bed, gently pushing Kurt down.

The brunette laughed. "A bit unscheduled, Mr. Anderson!"

"You look amazing," Blaine replied, placing a gentle kiss on Kurt's lips. Burt wanted to smack the kid right then and there, but he left, feeling as if he had just intruded upon something very intimate. He went to his own bed with Carole snuggled up to his side, wondering just how unscheduled Kurt and Blaine were getting. It was pretty quiet for the rate they were going at, and Burt had maybe drifted off for a moment or two (or six hours), when he heard talking.

One voice was quiet yet hysterical, the other soft and soothing. Burt realized the soothing voice to be Blaine's, which meant that the hysterical one was Kurt's. The older man detached himself from his wife's embrace and trudged into the hallway before remembering that Kurt wouldn't want him, not now (and not ever).

Still, Burt could make out the words being spoken behind Kurt's door.

"Babe, what's the matter?" Blaine's voice.

"N-nothing." Kurt.

"Don't play this game with me. I know you. What is it?"

"Just a bad dream."

A heavy sigh. "You've gotta stop worrying about this. Kurt Hummel, tell me when something is bothering you. I'm the one who bottles up everything."

"Well, I'm not allowed to snap my fingers anymore, and that usually got my point across."

There was a chuckle from both boys, and Burt could hear the bed creak as bodies more than likely readjusted themselves. "I love you," Blaine whispered gently.

"I love you, too," Kurt replied.

Before things got intimate again, Burt turned to walk back into his room. He kind of wished that Kurt had went to him instead of Blaine, but the man understood. Kurt wasn't his baby boy anymore, despite his deceiving looks, and he had someone like Blaine. Someone so passionate about loving Kurt, like he was the only thing that mattered in the world (the same way Elizabeth looked at Burt, he just never realized it), the same way Elizabeth had seen Kurt when he was first born, tiny with the slightest tuft of brown hair. The same way Burt still saw his son, even if Kurt chose not to always acknowledge it.

And in that moment Burt realized that he had become one of those sentimental softies that he had mocked only ten years earlier.

**A.N.: Eek! I loved that episode, and I just had to type this up! This kind of hits home, since my sister's graduating this year, and my family's all kind of affected by this. So, I had to have some Father/Son bonding, even if this sucks on ice! Hope you enjoyed, and of course I don't own GLEE! Also, did anyone think that Blaine was a little hypocritical in his reaction to Chandler? I don't think that Kurt should've been texting him, but Blaine didn't have much of a right yelling at him.**


End file.
